


the moon is always rising above your house

by rainny_days



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Amnesia, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pining, Poetry, Rescue Missions, Screenplay/Script Format, Sort Of, Strings - Freeform, at times - Freeform, martin's poems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 10:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20758844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainny_days/pseuds/rainny_days
Summary: There is a monster under the archives. There is a man Jon wants to save.These two facts may or may not be connected.





	the moon is always rising above your house

**Author's Note:**

> shitty amnesia jonmartin fic? shitty amnesia jonmartin fic. written mostly because 1) i read sarah ruhl’s eurydice and had intense jm feelings, 2) i cannot stop thinking about tanoraqui’s [post](https://tanoraqui.tumblr.com/post/187517582837/as-a-consummate-adorer-of-the-lonely-immortal), and 3) i really wanted jon to read martin’s poems to him.
> 
> title from sarah ruhl's eurydice

[_click of tape recorder_]

BASIRA HUSSAIN: -made his choice, and he saved all of us. We- _you_\- have to respect that, Jon.

JONATHAN SIMS: I have to _try_.

BASIRA HUSSAIN: And if it gets everyone killed?

JONATHAN SIMS: [_Pause_]

It won’t.

* * *

There is an intruder in the tunnels.

It is not a usual visitor, the lonely captain that occasionally smiles at him through a veil of mist, the skittering of many feet at the peripheries of his gaze. The Guardian has memorized every noise that echoes within his tunnels, and these footsteps are not one of them. 

Whoever the intruder is, they do not attempt to hide their presence. They wander the halls of the cave with footsteps that echo down every path, the faint whir of a tape recorder. They talk as they walk, sometimes, speaking to the not-truly-empty air, and the monster that lives under the archives listens with faint interest.

Whoever the intruder is, they are looking for someone.

* * *

[_the faint sound of footsteps, echoing in what sounds like a cavernous structure_]

JONATHAN SIMS: [_softly_] Right. I suppose there’s no choice but to just- [_throat clearing, voice raises_] Martin?

[_A beat of silence_]

JONATHAN SIMS: ...alright, I didn’t- really expect that to work.

[_a quiet sigh_]

JONATHAN SIMS: You can hear me, though. Or, you should.

[_Pause_] 

I hope you do.

* * *

The Guardian knows that he had a life before the tunnels, because he remembers being cold, being hurt, being so lonely that it feels like water is weighing down your lungs. It’s an echo of sensation, made vivid in the gaping void that the Lonely has hollowed out of him. He never feels pain anymore, even when the soles of his (too-soft, human) feet scrape themselves raw on the rough floors of the caves. 

It’s a good thing. He doesn’t think he’d like being hurt.

* * *

JONATHAN SIMS: _The real of Beauty, free from that dead hue_

_Sickly imagination and sick pride-_

[_the sound of weak coughing_]

Sorry. It’s- colder than I remember, down here. If you were here - you, you, I mean - you would’ve gotten on my case for forgetting to bring a jumper.

[_Pause_]

I still have the jumper you gave me- the one from, it must’ve been five years ago? From the Secret Santa that you and Sasha insisted we do. At least- I think it was you and Sasha. [_softer_] I can’t be sure anymore.

Thank you, for that jumper. I don’t think I said that, before. Thank you, for the jumper, and the tea, and- just, everything. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.

I’m sorry.

[_a slightly wet sigh_] Anyways, where were we?

_Cast wan upon it? Burns! with honour due_

_I oft have honour'd thee-_

* * *

Nobody is supposed to be in the tunnels. Even if he knows nothing else, he knows that. It’s his purpose, after all, the reason that he patrols its halls day after day. Nobody is supposed to get to where he is. The Archivist isn’t an exception, bound even as the Guardian is to the Beholding.

Every day, the Archivist goes deeper into the tunnels. They trail their fingers over a ball of string, pulled taut from the mouth of the labyrinth, leaving it like a marker whenever they go. He thinks that he should cut the string, rewind it.

He does nothing.

* * *

DAISY TONNER: Had any luck?

JONATHAN SIMS: Not yet.

DAISY TONNER: You sure he’s listening?

JONATHAN SIMS: I- yes. I can’t explain it, but he is. At the very least, he’s letting me in. He hasn’t tried to- sabotage me, or trick me. At least, not that I’ve noticed.

DAISY TONNER: That’s something.

JONATHAN SIMS: It’s a start.

* * *

“I see you’ve been having some visitors.”

The Guardian does not like the sea captain. He does not like his voice, loud and grating in the reverberating halls, he does not like the feel of him, ice-cold and intangible, and he especially does not like the way he speaks, almost but not-quite mocking. He does not reply, does not so much as turn to acknowledge the new presence.

“It’s understandable,” the man continues, not bothering to see if his counterpart has anything to say. “For the Archivist to seek out what he does not already know, especially with-” the words dart forward, a record skipping a track. “Well. It’s understandable, though not optimal. Of course, there’s nothing to worry about. Not with you down here.”

The monster that didn’t used to be remains silent.

* * *

[_the sound of a page being flipped_]

JONATHAN SIMS: _Filed Away_, by MKB.

Honestly, Martin, your name is fine as it is, I really don’t see the need for you to change your moniker every time- [a throat being cleared] Anyways-

_Down amongst the boxes, hidden well, not hiding_

_Holding fast against the forces of darkness _

_Pressing in on_

_Darkness_

_Paper words, security_

_Certified and filed_

_Words to explain the darkness_

_Explain the need for resting amidst the wave of statements_

_A comforting, centuries heaviness_

_Experiences in words_

_Words in boxes_

_Boxes on shelves_

_Shelves in order_

_Everything in its place, where it ought to be_

_Filed, ‘For Future Consultation’_

_End of an era consideration_

_Threads abound_

_Surround_

_Link in might and volume to be found_

_Hidden strength in knowledge_

_Kept hidden in the darkness_

_Secret weapons in the darkness_

_Everything is filed in place_

_And all is right with the world_

_Only it’s not, is it?_

[_silence_] Um, that’s it. It’s not- terrible. There are some turns of phrase that- well, it’s-

[_a sigh_]

It’s good, Martin. Honest. I- I miss hearing it.

I miss hearing you.

* * *

The Archivist leaves things behind- a mug of tea, already gone cold. A pair of knitted gloves. A small box of biscuits.

He doesn’t touch any of it, and they disappear as quietly as they appeared.

* * *

MELANIE KING: -not healthy to keep doing this, Jon. It’s been _months_.

JONATHAN SIMS: He waited for months, when I was- out of commission.

MELANIE KING: And that wasn’t healthy either! Look, I’m not saying you have to give up on him completely or anything. Just- take care of yourself. It’s the least you owe him.

JONATHAN SIMS: ...right.

MELANIE KING: [_a sigh_] well, at least I can tell Georgie I tried.

* * *

There are two frayed books this time, when the Archivist leaves. They are worn paperback, well-read, the two volumes bound together with a neat red string.

The paper is smooth to the touch, there are pages dogeared, seemingly at random. Passages are highlighted, a tight scrawl mars the margins.

Inside the title page is a name, scribbled in pencil and faded with time.

_Jonathan Sims_

* * *

JONATHAN SIMS: - and Basira’s off to Greenland next week, and she’s letting Daisy go with her, which is a relief. Melanie’s still making jokes about lasik, but I don’t think she’s being serious, and-

[_something plastic hitting the ground, a rustle of cloth_]

Martin?

MARTIN BLACKWOOD: Hi, Jon.

**Author's Note:**

> i really wanted to do more with this, but i've kind of not been in a great creative place these past few months so this is all i got. apologies!! hope you enjoy this word vomit anyways. i might come back to edit it later if i get some hp back.


End file.
